12 Dessa Tone

HIGH WITHIN THE foothills of the Wunn Mountains, smoke spiralled through the frost-bitten air. Laden with ice, the naked boughs of the surrounding forest creaked and groaned. This high in the mountains, the cold clung on despite it being early summer.

On a short plateau sat a building which might have been a house if not for the weird angles and twisted towers. It looked designed by a madman who was both blind and drunk. Rumours in the city below suggested someone undead lived there, or a witch. Threadfin Todder knew it was something worse.

It was Podral Pole’s ex-wife.

The front door creaked open and the viral mage took a tentative step inside. Just going to convince her to come with us. Give her whatever she wants in return. Easy. He kept an eye out for traps, but didn’t spot any. Dessa Tone was expecting him as he had sent word ahead, but he didn’t trust her an inch. Oh, he trusted her in the normal sense of the word. It was her temper he couldn’t count on. He hadn’t seen her in some time and wasn’t certain if he owed money.

‘What do you want?’ came her voice from within. ‘If you need bolts, you’ll have to wait a few days or maybe a week. I’ve got no crossbows neither. Been outfitting the recruits your sister’s gathering. Besides, you didn’t pay me for the last order.’

Knew it, he thought with a wince. A pity he couldn’t figure a magic spell to produce coins. Alchemists, living and undead, had been trying to produce gold for centuries. Of course, he’d heard of undead alchemists trying to turn themselves into breathers too. Idiots. The last viral alchemist had perished in the purges, unless one had survived in secret or had succeeded.

‘Anyone would think you didn’t want me here,’ he called down the musty corridor. I should lend her Nipper to do some cleaning up. Might go some way to repaying whatever I owe.

‘I’m busy, Todder. Go away.’

There was a faint glow coming from the end of the hallway. He shut the door and walked towards it. The hallway itself was of unadorned stone, smothered in cobwebs.

‘Did I say you could come in?’

‘You didn’t exactly say not to,’ he answered as he reached the door.

‘I thought I said, go away.’

‘And I will, after we’ve had a nice friendly chat.’ He entered an overlarge room, the distorted wooden ceiling twenty feet high. Wood hissed and spat within a deep fireplace and there was a black pot hung by chains with something bubbling inside. No wonder some think she’s a witch, he thought. If they saw this, there’d be a mob at her door looking for healing of this, that, and the other. Pole would agree she was a witch if for different reasons.

The woman, clad in a leather apron and gloves, was working at a long workbench, cluttered with every type of device imaginable. There were mechanical creatures, and clocks on legs, several crossbows with bits attached, which he didn’t recognise. There were metal tubes and gears of various sizes from miniscule to as big as himself. Those latter occupied the floor, which was equally cluttered. Behind the bench was an anvil and a blazing forge. Smoke spiralled upwards in the hot hazy interior. There were no torches or lamps, but the size and design of the room seemed to swallow the light into the gloom above. The whole place stank of oil, burning metal, smoke, and oddly enough, chicken.

‘Hello, Dess. Been too long, right? Bet you missed me, though.’

Removing a glove, Dessa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing herself with oil. Her white hair, which was in stark contrast to her youthful soot-covered face, stuck out everywhere, while the rest of her was, suffice to say, a mess. In her late thirties, she looked younger than her years, despite her hair colour.

‘Not long enough, Todder,’ she said. ‘Yeah, I missed you, with that arrow I aimed at your head when you didn’t repay the dozen silver dralans you owed. I heard you’ve been busy.

‘What do you want now? I told you; those crossbows were the last and I’m into different stuff.’ She hefted a Nephilim harog or what used to be one. She’d managed to cut the Nephilim steel weapon in half. It appeared she had attached an iron contraption of some sort to the severed end. What she was going to do with it he hadn’t a clue. She was always experimenting.

Huh, reminds me of someone. Threadfin stepped up to the bench and began to fiddle with different items trying to get some sense of what they were. Oil and soot coated everything. ‘You’re a mystery, Dess. Always were, but I know things about you no one else does.’

The young woman dropped the unfinished piece with a clatter. She gripped a short knife tucked into the leather work belt at her waist.

‘Now, wait,’ said Threadfin raising his hands and backing up a step, ‘that’s not what I meant. It’s just I know you’re Atlantian, though you always avoid discussing it.’

‘Former Atlantian. I’m Icarthian now, a citizen of the imperium.’ She wiped her hands on her leather apron and resumed fitting several pieces together. They clicked in place, though he couldn’t understand what she was making. ‘This is my home and I’d like you to leave.’

‘Can’t change who and what you are, no matter how much you’d like to.’

She paused in her work to glare at him. ‘You’re treading dangerous waters. Why don’t you just go. I told you, I’m—.’

‘Yes, I know, busy. You’re always busy. I’ve never known you to be anything else except busy. Look, we’re friends, aren’t we?’

‘Nope.’

‘Allies?’

‘No.’

Well, that was nice to hear. ‘I need your help.’

She paused, appeared to consider it, and said, ‘No.’

Threadfin sighed, and walked over to the large pot and glanced inside. ‘Soup?’

‘Tea.’

‘It’s got chicken bits or something floating in it with dark blobs.’

‘It’s chicken tea with dark blobs.’

‘Ugh,’ he uttered with a shudder. ‘No wonder your marriage ended.’

‘Todder, what do I have to do to get rid of you? Apart from the obvious. I’d rather not get undead blood, or whatever you got inside of you, all over my work. Not unless it’s good for greasing metal.’

‘Come with me on a little journey.’

‘No.’

‘What if I told you the world was in peril and I needed you to help me save it? From the Grim, the hoary old bastard himself. Heroic type stuff. See the world. Live a little. You’ll love it.’

‘Hah! Well, that is a good one. If it were true.’ She stepped around the work bench and approached the pot. Picking up a ladle she stirred it. ‘You look different from last time. Your skin’s all scaly and you’ve got horns sprouting out of your face. Don’t get me wrong, you make it work.’

Threadfin grimaced. ‘I need to find the Tower of Babel. It just happens I believe the secret to its exact location lies in Atlantis. Fancy that for a coincidence.’ When she said nothing, he added, ‘You know, since you’re Atlantian and all?’

She lifted the ladle to taste the soup-tea, and spat. ‘Too much salt.’

‘Yeah, that’s the problem. Salt.’

She dropped the ladle and turned to regard him. ‘Is this supposed to be a joke? Not funny, but then you always were dry.’

‘Oh no, trust me, chicken tea is no joke.’

‘I meant the Tower.’

‘He’s coming back after a thousand years, Dess. He also has another name.’

She shrugged. ‘Rasnal Nalrost, so what? What’s he going to do? Try to take over the world?’

He blinked, wondering how she could know the Grim’s identity. ‘He might yet murder a friend of mine, and yes, take over the world. I’m going to stop him.’

She filled a bowl with the soup-tea, and sat on the floor with her legs crossed. She didn’t have any furniture not smothered in oil or metal pieces. ‘If you want some, you’re welcome to it. There’s a spare bowl on the table. Just grab a rag to clean off the oil first. You can pick out the chicken bits if you don’t like them.’

Threadfin waved a hand. ‘No thanks, although these days I do prefer meat.’

‘Huh, not just your face that’s changed.’ She swallowed a spoonful and gagged. ‘I also put seaweed in it for you when I heard you were coming. Way too salty.’

Ah, so that’s what the dark blobs were, I hope. ‘My mongrel reached you then. Hope that’s not him floating in there. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him.’

‘Where’s that former husband of mine gotten to? Last I heard, he followed you everywhere like a kecc in heat. Lingering a few miles from here shivering in the bushes or something?’

‘He’s not in the bushes.’

‘Metaphorical. Likely up a tree, like one of those apes out east, you know from southern Keen or Krank?’ She took a spoonful and gagged yet seemed intent on finishing it. ‘You should see them. Something about them makes you wonder where we all came from.’

‘He misses you.’

She choked, sputtering with laughter.

‘Well, alright then,’ said Threadfin. ‘Maybe you miss him? All those adventures you had. Vilt filled me in a little bit. Remember her? Apparently, she knew you both back then. Go figure. Likes talking does Vilt, after a few tankards of strong ale. Got her roaring drunk. The tales she had to tell before she keeled over.’

Dessa appeared to recover, and said, ‘Heard about your sister. You becoming an imperial mage and all too. I guess, congratulations. You’re going to face down the Grim. Good luck with that. Now, get out of my house.’

Dessa Tone was remarkable and the best metal-worker and inventor Threadfin had heard of. However, she was infuriating to talk to. ‘I’m not just trying to save a friend’s life and maybe the world. Some think she’s a spectral mage and was once Nalrost’s lover. It may just be that I’m also fighting Tartaros.’

The bowl paused half way to her lips. ‘I suppose you’re dragging that ex-husband of mine along?’

‘I made a promise to protect her. Astra, I mean. That’s her name.’

She nodded. ‘Heard about her. Word spreads about a strange girl like that along with all the rumours of an ancient sorceress. Are they true?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m not going to let Nalrost murder her. I need to stop the Grim.’

She nodded and set the wooden bowl on the floor, wiping her mouth. ‘Okay, I do know of such a tower, and you’re right, you won’t find it without visiting Atlantis.’ She picked at a thread on her tunic, humming.

Threadfin bit down on his frustration. She was being difficult on purpose. ‘And ...?’

She glanced up at him with a grin before preceding to pick up her bowl and lick it. ‘Ask me real nice,’ she mumbled between licks and grimaces. ‘Might be I’ll help you if you do, but it had better be a nice offer. Something on paper. Parchment will do. Signed.’

Threadfin bit back an oath. Aiyana was going to love this. ‘What is it you want? A room in the palace for all your metal bits and pieces? Gold?’

‘Preferably, a tower on the east wing. I like to watch the sunrise, oh, and a title to go with my new position and robes of office to go with the title and a few servants to carry this and that. Oh, and they’d better be the muscly type – most of this stuff’s heavy, and an apology from your sister for sticking me all the way out here in the first place. All official, with imperial seals and the like.’

‘Aiyana didn’t stick you out here.’

‘Might as well have. Hardly made me feel welcome, did she? Offered my services to her real nice. Told her you and I worked together once and she ignored me.’

‘She has a lot of things on her mind.’

‘Not my problem.’

‘You’re just trying to get closer to Podral. Admit it.’

She stared at him, jaw muscles bunching. ‘On paper, Todder, and signed.’ Her hair stuck out, gummed up with oil and the angels above knew what, making her fierce expression look half-crazed.

Aiyana is going to kill me, and then he had another thought. Maybe she didn’t have to find out, at least not right away. The palace complex was huge and Aiyana rarely entered the east wing. ‘Fine, everything as you asked, except the letter of apology since she doesn’t owe you any, and you know damn well she’d never write one. Most of it will have to wait anyhow.’ He might convince her to take Wept instead. She’d get over it. It was getting too cramped for him in there anyway. He’d wanted solitude to experiment, but everyone kept barging in.

‘A document with all the details, officially signed and stamped, will suffice until our return.’

I’ll have Nipper scrawl something up. He can steal a stamp if he hasn’t already. After all, what was the point of having a scribe if he didn’t scribble the odd official document? ‘Fine. I’ll return in two days and then we leave for Atlantis.’

She got to her feet, tossed the bowl, which clattered somewhere amongst all the junk. ‘Nope, no need.’ She threw her arm around him in a half hug. ‘I’m coming back with you right this minute. No point delaying my grand return.’

‘Grand return? You’re not from Icarthya. You’ve never lived there.’

‘I’m sure your sister will welcome me with open arms. What about a banquet? I love to eat you know. Tired of oily chicken tea.’

The dark blobs came to mind. Not seaweed after all, then. Threadfin gave what he imagined was an exasperated look. ‘You do remember her, right? My sister? She will never consent to a banquet.’

‘I’m sure you’ll fix it. Since you need me. You’ll agree to any request I make, won’t you?’ She stepped away, and began to rummage for something. She turned and tossed several heavy pieces of metal into his arms. ‘Carry these for me will you. I heard your sort are strong. Might as well get some work done while I’m shacking up with you. They’re all finished, just need fitting.’

In minutes, bits of metal filled his arms, while she strapped pieces on to his back. ‘Fine, I agree, so long as you come with us. Now, what is all this?’

‘We’ll need it for my ship. It’s a device for navigating.’

‘Wait, your ship?’ He’d been planning on taking the last imperial ship remaining in the capital’s port, although he hadn’t asked Aiyana’s permission. You’d swear she was imperatrix already the way she carries on.

The Atlantian patted him on the cheek and turned away. ‘Oh, did I forget to mention, a particularly ruthless prime has it.’

‘Has what?’

‘I lost it in a drunken bet. It’s the only ship we can use to get us to Atlantis. Trust me on that.’

Threadfin swallowed hard. What have I agreed to? ‘You’re telling me, the one ship we can use is one you’ve gone and lost? And, you want me to get it back for you?’

She turned, ‘Well, I mean, I know where it is. I lost it to a pirate by the name of Murmur Munt, who deals in ... people.’

‘A slave trader.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, a Tharoni. Gets worse though. You see, he’s in Hatava, and um, so is my ship. Not to mention he has a private army and I’m wanted for ... uh ... certain failings.’

‘As in crimes.’

‘Well, I may have killed two of his crew after I lost the bet, and my ship. A small thing. Don’t see what all the fuss is about. They weren’t even essential crew.’

‘You want me to go to Hatava and steal your ship back.’

‘See, you’re catching on, Todder. Whoever said you were “dumb as a Grolg’s butt in winter,” didn’t know what they were talking about.’

‘The phrase is “numb as a ...,” wait, people have said that?’

She slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to stagger him. ‘As for Hatava I’ll steal my ship back. Well, with help from my crew. They’ve been lying low, but they’ll answer my summons. You just got to keep old Murmur and his buddies occupied.’

Threadfin groaned. ‘You never wanted a room in the palace, did you? It’s just your ship you wanted back.’

She smiled. ‘Like I said, those folks don’t know what they’re talking about.’

Not for the last time, he wondered why on this good earth he had ever decided to request help from Dessa bloody Tone.